


tell rock and roll i'm alone again

by kuzuhina (Know_Your_Paradoxes)



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: (like. it's not SUPER detailed but. you know what's happening.), A lot of fucked up shit bc... well. shsl despair y'kno, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Dark, Dead Enoshima Junko, Death, Descent into Madness, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), Despair Mioda Ibuki, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enoshima Junko Being An Asshole, F/F, Fanon Satou first name, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Enoshima Junko/Tsumiki Mikan, Minor Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko, Murder, Non-Chronological, Nonbinary Mioda Ibuki, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Remnants of Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation, Semi-explicit sex, Twilight Syndrome Murder Case, Underage Sex, Warning: Enoshima Junko, headcanon: gundam took junko's other eye, headcanon: the impostor got junko's scalp, this is dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Know_Your_Paradoxes/pseuds/kuzuhina
Summary: Ibuki Mioda falls into despair rather easily for someone so cheerful.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Mioda Ibuki, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko & Mioda Ibuki, Kuzuryu Natsumi/Mioda Ibuki, Mioda Ibuki & Everyone
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16





	tell rock and roll i'm alone again

It's Natsumi's birthday today, Ibuki thinks to themselves. She would have absolutely despised who they had turned out to be. That fact makes Ibuki want to scream and cry and yell and tear their eyes out.

And it's fucking perfect.

They trace the scars on their arm where they had carved her name, and they think this is the closest to Heaven that they'll ever really be. Or, perhaps, it's the closest to Hell. Either way, it feels like they could die right now and it would be beautiful.

Fuyuhiko looks at them, one green-gold iris analyzing their every move, and one light blue iris perfectly still. Enoshima Junko's smiling at them from whatever afterlife she ended up hurtling towards, and Ibuki can't help but smile back at Fuyuhiko, who is currently the vessel closest to them.

He breaks a bottle of vodka that he had just finished downing, and the glass shards explode, putting shrapnel into Ibuki's legs, Fuyuhiko's hands, their hearts, their souls. The pieces scatter across the concrete floor, permanently stained with the blood of those that they had brought to Enoshima Junko's loving embrace. Those pieces reflect every decision that the two of them have made until now -- Fuyuhiko's murder of Satou in revenge for her murder of Natsumi, Ibuki's suicide attempt via hanging upon discovering that their girlfriend was dead, undressing Enoshima Junko and tasting death itself.

Ibuki is so distracted by their own thoughts that they don't notice Fuyuhiko grabbing two of the longer, more jagged shards off of the floor between them.

He keeps one in hand, and looks up at Ibuki with the other extended. "Shall we?" he asks, voice hoarse and low.

Normally, someone as small and cute as Fuyuhiko wouldn't be so intimidating. But because he has Enoshima Junko's eye, her looming presence has attached itself to him. Ibuki wonders if they could love him. A substitute for his sister, a substitute for Enoshima Junko, a substitute for the emptiness they feel inside.

Wouldn't that be fucking delicious?

Ibuki takes the shard from his hand, ready to reopen the scars that reminded them of Natsumi. They can only assume Fuyuhiko is about to do the same.

* * *

They hear Mahiru screaming, but they can't see what she's screaming at. They're trying to push past her to see what she's looking at, but Mikan and Hiyoko are holding their arms back.

(Ibuki knows that it isn't good, they know that the way that Mahiru yelled Natsumi's name isn't normal. They just refuse to admit it to themselves.)

They thrash and flail at the two girls constraining them. "Let me go!" they yell, in nobody's face in particular.

Mikan is the first to respond, letting out a shriek and a stuttered out "sorry."

Hiyoko, on the other hand, refuses to address Ibuki directly and chastises Mikan. "Why are you apologizing, pig-shit?! We're doing them a favor!"

Mahiru's still standing frozen, blocking any possible tiny glimpse that Ibuki could take. They want to know so badly, they know that their friends are just worried about them, but they just want to see. They want to know what's going on. It isn't fair that they don't get to know but the other girls do.

Luckily for Ibuki, they're stronger than Mikan and Hiyoko are.

They wriggle loose, and Hiyoko immediately goes on the offensive against Mikan for letting them get away. The nurse merely whimpers and apologizes more and more, the words falling out of her mouth like baby teeth. They become white noise as the world slowly starts to turn into a tunnel, leading to the scene.

There lies Kuzuryuu Natsumi, limp body propped against the wall, painting the music room with her blood.

If Ibuki focuses hard enough, it's almost beautiful. The dent in her skull is almost symmetrical. Her skin is pallid, and it makes her freckles show more prominently. With her lips parted in an eternal sigh, Natsumi looks more peaceful than she ever has in her entire life.

They make a solemn vow then and there to never set foot in the Hope's Peak Academy music room again.

They wail, and the sound is ten times more gutteral than anything they had ever done while practicing in here before. They used to scream for the sake of rebellion. They used to shriek to the Heavens for no real reason at all. Natsumi had always told them that they sounded great when they yelled.

Now they scream because there's nothing else to do. They scream because it hurts so fucking badly, and they can't do anything else to even begin to express the rage and sorrow and confusion and fear that they feel.

They don't even feel their knees hit the floor, or Mikan trying to pick them back up to try and see if they had injured themselves. They certainly don't hear Mikan's concerned shouting in their ears, or Hiyoko's loud criticisms of her "bedside manner." They only figure out those things after they wake up in the infirmary with a scratchy throat, and Mahiru tells them everything.

The great thing about Koizumi Mahiru is that she almost has a photographic memory. Almost.

* * *

Ibuki's playing their guitar for anyone who will listen. The passersby on the street are the only people who'll stop to listen to their music nowadays.

They want so badly to get back at their old group, but they know deep down, it would do no good. "After School Poyoyon Hour" was essentially Ibuki's legacy. They were cursed to forever play that song, if it meant that they were to make a name for themselves in the music world. For anyone to listen to their true passion, they would have to sell out.

So, street busking was the only thing that they could really do at the time.

They'd see a couple yen here, some there, but nothing substantial enough. If they were truly lucky, someone would stick around for the end of one song and then go back on their merry way.

However, today was special.

They immediately recognized the girl when they saw her out of the corner of their eye. It was Enoshima Junko. She had a smile on her face and her strawberry blonde pigtails bobbed to the music as Ibuki shredded their guitar. Her hips swayed as she moved, and it was hard to ignore the hypnotizing way she kept sync with the rhythm.

It shouldn't have surprised them, she was, after all, the Super High School Level Model. She was used to keeping rhythm to herself, as she walked down runways and made poses. And, obviously, she was fucking gorgeous. She had a near hourglass figure, flawless peachy-toned skin, and big blue eyes that would be enough to lure men to their deaths.

After Ibuki had finished their performance, she started cheering and applauding. It was only once they had finished their song that they had seen that the model had put a couple thousand yen in their guitar case.

"Brava, brava! You're a fucking legend, Mioda-senpai!" she hollered. Her voice had a tinge to it that was a bit annoying, but in the moment, Ibuki could've sworn they were hearing the voice of the Heavens themselves. "God, I never understood why people only cared about you when you were part of Black Cherry. Although I can't say I blame them -- Black Cherry kinda fucking sucks without you."

Ibuki let out a low laugh despite themselves. As much as they wanted to keep up the facade of respect for their former bandmates, they genuinely were tickled that someone thought the same way that they did. Black Cherry's singer, Ogasawara Kuroko, would've shit her pants on hearing that. Hopefully, Tatsuno Kiyumi and Matsuoka Chie would still be the oblivious puppy-dogs that Kuroko-chan had trained them to be. Ibuki felt pity for those girls. They both genuinely loved Kuroko-chan, and she just stepped over them whenever she could.

It was a feeling that Ibuki had known far too well, with Kuroko-chan, and then with Toshio-chan, and then with Ayami-chan...

"Hey, I was just wondering. I've got a fashion show in Milan booked in a couple weeks. The designer was looking for an edgier sound to go with their punk rock and goth metal inspired line. I was thinking I could hit you up for that?"

Those words immediately took Ibuki out of their own head. "What?" they had asked, breathlessly.

"Haha, you're so cute when you're confused, Mioda-senpai. Would you happen to have any recorded singles I could show to the designer? His name is Federico Landolfo Cerone. He's only a couple years older than you, and he's already sooooooo successful. I think your stuff would be perfect for the show!"

"Uh, um... y-yeah! I-Ibuki thinks they might have something! But it's in their room... Would you mind following Ibuki so they can grab the single?"

Enoshima Junko nods, and Ibuki floats their way to the dormitories with her in tow.

"Oh wow, you actually don't live too far away from where I'm roomed! That's actually, really awesome. Like, if I would've known, I would've definitely tried to hang out with you a bit sooner. Maybe even tried to get in your room before now, too."

Ibuki stopped themselves in their tracks, halfway through opening their dorm room door. "U-Uh, thank you. T-That's really cool."

They finish opening the door, and allow the model to step in first. The semi-permanent painted smile on her face widens in response, as she takes in the tiny details of the room that Ibuki added themselves. A few posters here and there, a decorative display of guitar picks on their desk, some bright and colorful lights that would occasionally strobe if they were set to. Tiny little mementos from their days at Shiba Academy were strewn about, and a skeleton plushie that they received from their (ex)girlfriend Natsumi.

(It still fucking hurts to put the prefix on it.)

Enoshima Junko sits on their bed, and the way that her thighs jiggle as she moves is something that Ibuki wishes they didn't care about so much.

"Hmm... do we have to grab the single just yet? Why can't we hang out? Come sit with me, Mioda-senpai!" She pats the patch of blanket next to her, and they feel like if they obey, they might spontaneously combust.

Despite all of the alarms in their head going off, they agreed, and the way that the blonde's weight made a tiny sinkhole in their mattress made it difficult to not be gravitated to her, quite literally. Ibuki can feel their face heating up. They shouldn't be this flushed, especially since their (ex, goddammit)girlfriend Natsumi had only been gone for a month or so.

Enoshima Junko's long red fingernails find their way on the cold skin of Ibuki's exposed thigh, tracing their stitch tattoo with a surprisingly dull talon. "I've always thought that you were cute, y'know. Like, seriously, sometimes I'd pass by the music room and you'd be yelling and sweaty and it made me soooooo wet."

They pause. Jesus Christ, this was the Devil herself, trying to get them to start down the path of sin.

"And I saw the way that you were ogling my ass when I was dancing earlier. I mean, I don't blame you, but, like... I'm getting the vibe that you're into me too. And, seeing as I'm in your room, and seeing as I know for a fact that these rooms are relatively soundproof... I figured that you should know..."

Her lips would occasionally brush against Ibuki's ear as she spoke, and her whisper was low and smoky, the total opposite of the higher pitched, almost childish voice that she had put on the first time that she had spoken to them.

"I'm a screamer. I have a feeling we could make some sweet music together."

When their lips touch, Ibuki feels themselves slowly heating up from inside. Her finger on her thigh slips itself closer to where their thighs touch, and they whine into her kiss. Enoshima Junko's tongue prods itself into Ibuki's mouth, and holy fuck, she's so good at this, how did she get so good at this, Ibuki shouldn't be doing this, she shouldn't have tried and tempted them with her wiles.

Their reservations melt away as soon as they feel Enoshima Junko start to move her lips down their jawline, and her hand move closer and closer toward their body instead of just on their legs. The touch of the pad of her finger against Ibuki was enough to make them shudder and gasp. It feels like they're losing something when she puts the finger to her lips and her tongue darts out over it. "Oh, Ibuki, you're already so wet for me. God, this is gonna be fun."

Everything else blurs, but Enoshima Junko does live up to her promise of being a screamer.

Sometimes, when they close their eyes, they can still hear her yelling their name.

* * *

It's been only three days since Kuzuryuu Natsumi died.

Ibuki has been absent from classes for the last few days. Memories of their relationship with their girlfriend (Ex-girlfriend. They should get used to that soon. They won't.) replay involuntarily, projected onto their eyelids every time they blink. They haven't eaten much, they haven't drank any water in hours, and they can't even bring themselves to cry anymore. Their sobs are merely just heaves of their chest, catching of breath, and stinging, yet dry, eyes.

They get a call from Mahiru, and they answer, despite their throat being scratchy and unable to produce any meaningful speech.

The frantic tone reminds them of the way that she had sounded when she had been relaying the information of Natsumi's death to them. If Ibuki had been paying any closer attention, the heartbreak in Mahiru's voice may have sent them completely off the deep end.

"O-Oh God, i... it's S-S... Satou-san. M-M-Mioda-san... she's d-dead!"

After keeping on the line, letting out tiny whispers of "I'm sorry" and "I know" and "I love you, Mahiru-chan" for about half an hour, Ibuki feels that they've done satisfactorily and hangs up.

Deep down, they know why Shizuka is dead. They remembered hearing whispers of Natsumi's brother Fuyuhiko being on the warpath. He felt like he knew who had murdered his sister (Ibuki's girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. They will never ever get used to putting that prefix on her place in their life.) and his bodyguard, Pekoyama Peko, had seemingly been trying to keep him in check.

Clearly, Fuyuhiko had assumed that Shizuka had been the reason for the death of Natsumi.

If that were the case, the bitch got what she deserved.

They had been friends. Now that Shizuka was dead, Ibuki wished that she were rotting in Hell for a crime that she may or may not have even committed.

Either way, they knew their rage wouldn't bring Natsumi back. But if it could, they would have their girlfriend by their side for the rest of time.

* * *

"God I wish I were part of the Main Course," Natsumi says, poking at her lunch.

Ibuki, Peko, and Fuyuhiko had managed to sneak her into their lunchtime. Really, the entire thing was planned by Peko and Fuyuhiko, but Ibuki had asked to tag along since Fuyuhiko had mentioned that she was talking about them. Ibuki had remembered meeting the Kuzuryuu siblings a couple summers before now, after her brother had accompanied her to the Black Cherry reunion show that they had done in Tokyo.

The short, blonde, freckled girl had been racing through Ibuki's mind a lot recently. After being put into Hope's Peak Academy with her brother, they had found that in conversation, they would bring her up rather often. It wasn't necessarily like Fuyuhiko was a friend of Ibuki's, but he was a good brother, and he had mentioned how he thought that they would be a good influence on Natsumi, and how he approved of her crush on them. Soon after they met again, Ibuki had asked her on a date, and so they kind of owed their current girlfriend and relationship to him.

Fuyuhiko's response is quiet, but sharp. "I wish you were, too. I would kill a million bastards if it meant you could be the heir."

Peko gives him a look of concern, obviously filled with love and respect and admiration and worry for his safety. Ibuki can tell that she's infatuated with him, and they have an inkling that maybe he loves her in return.

Ibuki's close group of friends is sitting rather closeby, and at the mention of murder, they can see Koizumi Mahiru's ears perk up. She's always been unnecessarily anxious about having a yakuza in the same class as her, so she's almost always found a way to hone in her senses whenever he slipped up and showed any kind of violent behavior.

Natsumi merely let out a tiny laugh and said, only a fraction less obviously, "Yeah, I think I'd do the same thing as you, big bro."

They can tell that the siblings have a morbid sense of humor. It seems like it should come with the territory of being surrounded by so much risk and death and fear. So it's only natural that they continue that train of thought.

"But who could you kill, Natsumi... which one of my classmates would you off to get a spot as the Super High School Level Little Sister?" Fuyuhiko jokes.

She taps her chin, looking up at the ceiling in faux thought. "Hmm... well, I've always been super into photography, right? And that Koizumi girl is kinda bitchy anyway. It might actually do some good to off her."

Ibuki refuses to laugh, but they also refuse to admonish them. They know that this is the way that they've learned to cope with the dangerous nature of their family's lives, and they especially don't want to piss either one of them off. The two of them are pretty similar people, with very similar tempers.

They notice Mahiru take in a sharp breath and push her food away out of the corner of their eye. Her girlfriend, Satou Shizuka, tracks Mahiru's movements as she stands up, excuses herself, and leaves the table.

Ibuki knows that something's just happened. Something big and something terrifying.

They just hope that Natsumi's laughter sticks around for the rest of their life.

* * *

It's been about half a year since Kuzuryuu Natsumi was found murdered and Satou Shizuka had been found dead in retaliation.

Enoshima Junko's fingers are where they've been for months, where they're supposed to be, and Ibuki can barely focus on anything around them.

They feel Enoshima Junko's breath on their neck as she whispers, "Hey, baby. Do you want to help me with something?"

Ibuki nods. Anything to keep her doing what she's doing. Anything to shatter their world and make them forget the weight of the past that hung around their neck like a noose.

"Anything for you, Enoshima-sama."

She smiles and Ibuki feels a wave of heat rush in response, desperately trying to become part of Enoshima Junko's warmth. "Oh, you always know what to say, baby. Now, what if I told you that you could make others feel the way that you feel? What if I told you that you could give everyone the same kind of Hell that Satou gave you?"

This is not the route that Ibuki was expecting, especially not with their legs spread open and Enoshima Junko's hand down their pants.

They can't form words, they're so close to falling off the edge. They merely nod.

She seems to notice that they're getting close, and her movements slow down. Her extra hand wraps itself around Ibuki's throat, and squeezes lightly. "Good, good. And what if that was made even better? What if you could do that with your own music?"

Enoshima Junko's grip tightens, and Ibuki feels themselves starting to choke slightly. It's so fucking hot, and they want to let go of the tension building in their stomach, but they know that she would be disappointed in them if they did. They nod again, mouth opening and letting out a strained breath unconsciously.

"You're so good, fuck... Great. I'm gonna do all that and more for you. I'm gonna give you a platform, and you're gonna make everyone feel so helpless, so hollow, so DESPERATE, that they just want to die. And I'll reward you, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?"

Her grip keeps tightening, and her (admittedly, shorter than before) fingernails dig into the skin of Ibuki's neck. Her other hand has stopped moving entirely, and Ibuki still feels like they could release at any second. Their vision starts to tunnel, and what little they do see, the blue of Enoshima Junko's eyes, is blurry and vague.

They nod for a third time, feeling their heartbeat slamming against their ribcage, like a lion trying to escape the circus.

Enoshima Junko giggles, presses her lips to Ibuki's, and Ibuki knows that any more of this will kill them. Maybe even letting themselves cum would stop their heart from beating anymore. There's really only one way to find out, isn't there? The grip on their throat loosens slightly, and the fingers pressed against Ibuki start to move again.

It isn't death, but it might even be a little better.

* * *

She had promised Ibuki that they were the first and only for them. She had promised Ibuki that she would never leave them alone. She had promised that she wouldn't die like Natsumi had.

Those were clearly lies.

Mikan had come to Ibuki a few days after the first time that they had hooked up with Enoshima-sama, and had confided in them that she was in love with someone. A girl, a gorgeous blonde with big beautiful eyes. She told them not to tell anyone else that they were in love with another woman, and they had promised her secrecy till death.

"G-G-Good. I c-can't let anyone else know that I'm a... a..." the nurse's words fizzled out before she had the chance to finish her sentence.

Ibuki wasn't sure what she had meant. Probably some sort of slur that she was disgusted with herself for even likening her situation to. Maybe just a declaration of her newfound sexual orientation. Or maybe she was never truly going to finish that thought, and it would just linger there, hanging off her lips forever.

Not even two days later, Enoshima-sama had texted them a nude photo and captioned it, "Can't wait for tonight, Souda-senpai <3" She later withdrew the text and apologized to Ibuki profusely.

Ibuki knew Souda Kazuichi. He was pretty hard to not instantly notice. He had almost neon pink hair that was cut in unusual angles, and his teeth were sharp and pointed. Not to mention the fact that he was almost obsessed with Sonia Nevermind, the transfer student that was the Super High School Level Princess.

Maybe it was because he was so infatuated with Sonia that he had decided to sleep with Enoshima-sama. It was highly likely. First of all, the two were both blonde, pale, with blue eyes. Second, it would be a really baller move to make someone jealous, especially since he had managed to score with the world's most famous model.

A week had passed, and Ibuki had slept with Enoshima-sama three times in that span.

They later learned that Hanamura Teruteru had been bragging about sleeping with her as well, and also that Sonia Nevermind had even at least kissed her once. (Ibuki had never once stopped to wonder if Sonia was attracted to women, but with the rumor circulating, it started to make a lot of sense. She was very clearly one of those "outwardly innocent, secretly sinister" types.)

When they had confronted Enoshima-sama, she had simply deflected. "Well, clearly, all of those are rumors, baby. I would never fuck someone like Hanamura-senpai, do you really think I would stoop that low? Same goes for Souda-senpai. I was just trying to get him hard so that he'd walk around Hope's Peak with a boner all day."

Ibuki had to admit that without any evidence other than the rumors that were spreading around campus, Enoshima-sama had some pretty good rebuttals to their claims.

She had continued, "And, sure, I might have kissed Nevermind-senpai once, but that was before we started hanging out and hooking up! I've never even talked to Tsumiki-senpai either, she's probably one of those stalker types, y'know? But it's not like I'm not used to those by now. Being a model is fucking terrifying sometimes."

Deep down, Ibuki knew that she was lying to their face, and she had truly broken her promise to them, but their brain refused to let them actually ruminate on it for too long.

Maybe it was because they wanted to believe, or maybe because they didn't have it in them to go through another heartbreak.

Either way, it still ends with Ibuki's lips crashing against hers, and then sinking lower and lower, in more ways than one.

* * *

Ibuki stares at themselves in the mirror. They swear that sometimes, their irises look more red than pink.

They're in nothing but their underwear, and they're staring at the marks all over their body. The scars on their arm that spell out the name of a former lover, the tattoo of a stitch on their thigh, the mark that Peko had given them across the chest during a fight that had almost killed them (but didn't, even better), they all tell a story.

They hold a scalpel they stole from Mikan in their left hand, trying their best to work around the fact that this isn't their dominant hand. They should've made the choice to use their dominant hand when they had carved Natsumi's name into their skin forever, but it was too late now.

They slowly bring it down to the scarred flesh, ready to reopen the wounds.

They close their eyes and let themselves try and feel their way around to freshen up the messy scrawl, and when they open them, a different name is in return.

No longer is Natsumi's name prominently bleeding from their flesh.

The fresher, more open cuts spell out Junko instead.

It's fucking euphoric. Ibuki feels themselves shatter into a million pieces onto the concrete floor, and it's like Enoshima-sama is fucking them again, and they're experiencing the little death.

They pray so badly that they don't wake up after they pass out, either due to the sheer orgasmic bliss of it all, or from the loss of blood.

It feels even better when they do.

* * *

She had promised Ibuki that they were the first and only for them. She had promised Ibuki that she would never leave them alone. She had promised that she wouldn't die like Natsumi had.

Those were clearly lies.

Enoshima-sama has a great idea. She wants to trap her classmates in a game, where they have to murder one another for merely the chance to leave. She calls it the "School Semester of Mutual Killing." It's the best thing that Ibuki's ever heard in their life. Komaeda Nagito is practically creaming himself from the thought.

Of course, that means that she'll have to step away from her followers in order to monitor it. She can't have anyone breaking rules, and if they do, they need to be punished somehow. She has to be in control. She craves it. Enoshima-sama has only ever wanted to be the queen of anarchy, a paradoxical scenario fit for a paradox of a woman.

Ibuki is called to her room a few days before they start the preparations. They decide to make Mitarai Ryouta their scapegoat. He's a brilliant animator, and Enoshima-sama's been observing him as he creates a specialized video that will instill despair and hopelessness into everyone that sees it. The images themselves on their own are nothing completely mind breaking, but strung together, it's almost as if each person that watches' mind makes up its own story, relates it to their lives, and finds out that in the end, it's all meaningless.

They're pretty sure that they heard Mikan jacking to it last night.

When they enter Enoshima-sama's room, they bow their head down low. "Enoshima-sama, you called Ibuki?"

She nods. "Yes, you're so good. Now, I wanted to let you know that I'm going to have to step away from Super High School Level Despair for a while. And I also need to warn you that I fully intend to not make it back."

The words pierce Ibuki's heart, and if it weren't for the fact that the mere thought of losing her is making them salivate, they might have even shed a tear.

"I-Ibuki doesn't understand. You said that you wouldn't leave them alone. T-They don't know what to do without you..."

Enoshima-sama's hands find Ibuki's, and her nails dig into their flesh. They open their mouth, and while under any other circumstances they would let out a tiny yelp of pain, instead, they moan at the feeling. "Well, that's easy, baby. You do what you do best. Ruin lives and fucking thrash. It's just that the group will be... under new management. You remember Kamukura Izuru, correct?"

"Oh, yes! Kamukura-sama's your second-in-command, right?"

She chuckles. "Well, you might say that. If anything, I'm kind of his second, but I digress. Anyway, he'll be overseeing the group from now on. You don't have to change a thing, just... I don't want you to miss me, okay?"

Ibuki knows that Enoshima-sama really does want them to miss her. It'll make leaving them behind even more tragic and despair-inducing.

"Can... Can Ibuki fuck you one last time before you go?"

They already know the answer is no, because that would just give them more to feel hopeless about.

After they get their no, they find Mikan, who's watching the video again, and the two sort of help each other out.

* * *

Their facade finally breaks down after they see Naegi Makoto looking up at them with such hopeful, optimistic eyes.

They're not sure why they agreed to join the program, but they did. They're not sure if they did it in the hopes that it wouldn't work out. If only, they could allow themselves that kind of despair. The worst kind, one might argue -- the kind that happens right after you've just realized that there is hope out there.

Makoto gives them a bright smile, and there's a gap between his two front teeth, one that reminds Ibuki of someone. They can't remember who exactly.

"Great! Kirigiri-san, that brings our current total of Neo World participants to 8! We're halfway there!" The girl, Kirigiri-san, makes note and then looks to Ibuki with a completely blank expression. Ibuki lets a low, quiet laugh slip through their lips before they hum an American song to themselves, reminded of its lyrics due to Makoto's choice of wording.

Their voice isn't the same as it used to be. They used to be able to sing fairly well. They had learned proper screaming technique that did the least possible damage on their vocal cords, and it was really easy to switch between screaming and singing before. After the incident that led them to meet Enoshima-sama, they stopped caring about the technique and let themselves be raw, gutteral, visceral, Hellish. Now, whenever they so much as hum a note, it's raspy and low, and the pitch fluctuates wildly.

Makoto gives a thumbs-up to Kirigiri-san, and then faces Ibuki again. "Listen, I know this is hard for you, but I want you to listen to me when I say that you can get through this. We're here to help you, Mioda-san. You just have to let us."

Without thinking, Ibuki lurches forward and wraps their arms around the shorter boy. He lets out a tiny whimper as they make impact, but after a second or two, he allows himself to hug back, just as Ibuki starts to withdraw from the contact.

"Thank you," they whisper as they completely separate from Makoto, and Makoto merely nods, gives another smile, and then motions for Kirigiri-san to start the way out.

A few seconds pass as Ibuki watches the two leave, and as soon as the door shuts, they frantically search the room for the closest guitar that they have.

It's a golden-colored one, with pink splatters. Ibuki recognizes the pattern of the splotches, but they can't place who's blood it would maybe be. They know that they had it custom-made, and the strings are sharp enough so that whenever they strum quickly, their fingers end up lacerated.

It takes them a moment of hesitation, of recognition, of "wait a second, I know who this reminds me of," before instinct takes over and they smash it to fucking bits.

* * *

She had promised Ibuki that they were the first and only for them. She had promised Ibuki that she would never leave them alone. She had promised that she wouldn't die like Natsumi had.

Those were clearly lies.

They look at the lump, the mess of body parts. Surprisingly, despite the fact that Enoshima-sama had been crushed (at least, that's what the group had been shown via the broadcast she had sent out of the entire Killing Game), her body was relatively in tact.

The first person to try and take advantage of the situation was Komaeda Nagito. He noticed that one of her arms was still in decent condition, and immediately made way to Mikan, asking her to cut off his arm and attach Enoshima-sama's.

Ibuki recognizes that hand, and recognizes the sensation they feel when they look at it, despite hating the fact that it's attached to Nagito. It should still be attached to Enoshima-sama, and it should be making use of itself right about now. Nagito would never agree to return the favor, so Ibuki knows that they will never get to feel her touch again. It's so beautifully intoxicating that it makes them want to throw up.

Next is Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko, who finds one of Enoshima-sama's eyes. Despite the carnage of the majority of her body, both eyes were relatively unscathed.

Fuyuhiko doesn't ask Mikan for any help. He finds a spoon, and he digs, and he digs, and he digs, and then he grabs a knife from his pocket, and then he grabs a lighter and cauterizes, and then he's putting Enoshima-sama's beautiful blue eye (always watching always watching always watching always) into his eye socket, and he looks like death and he looks beautiful.

Third is Mikan herself. She grabs something that Ibuki can't quite recognize as any particular part. Mikan moves into a separate room to modify herself, and Ibuki thinks that they could guess why.

After that, more and more of the Remnants try and modify themselves with Enoshima-sama's parts. Gundam gets an eye, the Impostor gets her scalp (presumably to use as a wig), Hiyoko gets one of her feet, et cetera, et cetera.

Ibuki doesn't believe that they deserve any of Enoshima-sama's parts. Their body was too imperfect. Enoshima-sama would never want to have any part of herself on Ibuki's person forever. The thought would make her sick.

Which is why Ibuki decides to find Enoshima-sama's tongue, or what's left of it.

They'll talk to Mikan about the procedure after she's finished suturing her new womb together.

* * *

Ibuki wakes up on an island. They're not the first to wake, and they won't be the last. They don't recognize anyone here, at least not enough to remember a name.

They do get a sense of familiarity with the short blond boy, though.

Immediately, they feel like they need to protect him, to make him happy.

They owe him something. To what degree, they don't know.

They just feel like he gave them something that they could never possibly repay him back for.

* * *

Their eyes open and they see Hinata Hajime. He looks a bit different than what they remember him to look like. Now that they're thinking about it, he kinda looks like... no. They can't allow themselves to think about him.

He smiles. "Oh, Mioda-san, I'm so glad that you're awake."

Next to them is Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko, an eyepatch covering one of his eyes, and oh God.

They remember, they remember, they remember.

Her name was Natsumi, and this is her brother. They're almost spitting images of one another. He has one of Enoshima-sama's eyes, and he's hiding it now. Plus, he lost an eye in the simulation. (They wonder if he has a scar across his stomach from the time he tried to commit seppuku in the Neo World.)

He speaks, and his voice wobbles, and he only says, "Hey."

And Ibuki breaks.

They haven't screamed like this since Natsumi died, and they pray to whatever God would let them live like this that they never have to scream like this again.

* * *

Mahiru tells them that they tried to hang themselves in the auditorium.

One of the theater kids gave Ibuki access to the stage ropes, and they tried to set it up so that when the sandbag dropped, they would rise in the air with the noose around their throat.

Natsumi wouldn't have wanted this, they think as they tie the rope, trying desperately to make it resemble anything like a noose. They're not sure how to properly tie one, and all of their results merely end up giving their hands rope-burn and the ropes start to fray a little.

Before they can finally get it right, Mikan and Hiyoko manage to find them. They're both out of breath, as though they've been running through the school trying to find them.

Ibuki still has the bandages that Mikan gave them for their knees on.

They drop the rope, and they just cry, and wail, and scream, and they go so limp that they can't fight back as the two girls hold them by the arms again, leading them to the school infirmary.

After Mahiru relays the information, Ibuki stares at the wall, and whispers to themselves that they're happy that the attempt didn't go through.

They're not entirely sure if they truly mean it.

* * *

Mikan is leading them by the hand and they're listening. Anything for Enoshima-sama.

Deep in their mind, they know that this isn't Enoshima-sama, but Mikan is saying such sweet words, and they're so wet, and her hands feel just like Enoshima-sama's did when she touched them.

They step onto the small stepladder, with the bag over their face. It's better this way, so that nobody sees their face. They'd like to at least have some semblance of dignity as a corpse.

Mikan gives them a whisper that sends shivers down their spine, and they wait for her to kick their footing out from under them, but it never comes.

Instead, they hear a high-pitched, almost childish voice.

"What are you doing, you shit-for-brains, useless dumbasses?" the voice yells. Immediately, Ibuki recognizes this as Hiyoko.

They then hear steps pounding, and heavy breathing. Mikan is running, or at least they assume she is. Then they hear Hiyoko choking. Gurgling. After a minute, it stops.

Ibuki hadn't expected Mikan to have killed Hiyoko too. She had promised.

She had promised Ibuki that they were the first and only.

* * *

"No no no, why are you adding more riffs to the song, dipshit?!" Ogasawara Kuroko yells.

Ibuki is 13 years old, and she's in love with Kuroko-chan, but she can't tell her that. Kuroko-chan is a straight girl, and Ibuki isn't really even a girl, but she can't figure out if she's a boy or not, and everything is so confusing, but she knows how her heart skips a beat whenever Kuroko-chan looks her in the eyes, gorgeous midnight blue irises sparkling under the harsh LED lights of the music room.

Kiyumi-chan and Chie-chan were practicing on their own time. Drumming and bass needed to sync up, and they were the two more inexperienced members of the band. This left Ibuki with Kuroko-chan, and her stomach was so full of butterflies that it threatened to burst.

Kuroko-chan was very passionate about her music, particularly about this song. She had written it completely, from the lyrics to the notation.

Ibuki didn't want to say it, even to herself, but she fucking hated it.

"I just think that maybe adding some genre-mixing might make it sound even better, Kuroko-chan," she replies, very diplomatically.

Kuroko-chan scoffs. "It doesn't need to sound better, it's already perfect, you stupid bitch. Did you forget that I'm the one that wrote the fucking song? Everything I write is solid GOLD, Mioda-san. Don't fuck with me on this. If you want to make the talent scout fucking hate us, go right ahead. But do it on your own time, okay?"

This wasn't an unusual line of dialogue for Kuroko-chan. She was always abrasive, especially toward Ibuki, especially when Ibuki would offer her the slightest bit of critique or give her a small suggestion.

But she had kissed Ibuki once by her locker a couple months past, after they had won in a Battle of the Bands against Summer Tree, their main rivals.

"...Okay, Kuroko-chan."

"You're goddamn right it's okay. Now, take it from the chorus, you got that?"

After rehearsal, Kuroko-chan slipped her a note. It had a cute emoticon face drawn on it with the words "I'm sorry, lunch tmrw?" scrawled neatly across.

Ibuki debated it for a while, and she had half a mind to throw it directly into the trash, but after thinking about the way that Kuroko-chan had told her that she loved her underneath the maple tree in front of the school after Ibuki gave her a gift on her birthday, she slipped it into her backpack.

The song wasn't that bad, anyway, she thought to herself. How popular could a song called "After School Poyoyon Hour" possibly get?

* * *

This is the way that they die.

The rope around their neck almost feels like home.

It feels like Enoshima-sama's hands.

If they scratch at the noose long enough, their own fingernails make a decent substitute for hers.

They're drooling with delight at this feeling, and they kick and spin and flail around, if only to make it more painful. The way that it was supposed to be. The way that it was intended to be. The way that they deserved to die.

If they're lucky, they won't see Natsumi in Hell.

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired from "alpha dog" by fall out boy.
> 
> all apologies for how dark this fic is. but hey, it's remnant ibuki, i don't really know what to tell you other than. canon's fucky, y'know?


End file.
